Pike Place Memories
by Amarintha
Summary: drabble thingy.


_(I dunno where this came from. Un-beta'd.)_

Dean had touched a lot of people in his life. Mostly in good ways, sometimes in ways that made his own mind spin along with theirs. But either way, he was unable to understand why a girl was standing in front of him frowning. He knew he was older. By at least six years, if not more. But he couldn't place her. Sometimes, back when he was young, his Dad took him and Sammy down to the market in Seattle. Because it was cool, and because their mom liked how you could see the ocean, and it was beautiful. Also there was a comic book store, which was what always made Dean want to go there. It was 'the coolest ever' and there was the little donut store with the little machine that he could sit and watch for hours. He remembered a lot of faces. The people who threw the fish were a lot of fun at the Market. He'd wanted to come, drag Sam along. It was fun. Knew Sam liked the liberal artsy feel of the place with all the art types out playing music, drawing for a price, and all the little coffee shops and everything. He didn't like the way she was frowning at him. He never forgot a face, but she looked at him like she knew him. People threaded around and between them as they stared at each other. He looked at her clothes, noted a leather cuff on her wrist. Glanced at it again. She smiled, holding her wrist up to him like he'd just asked to dance. Fingers dangling loosely and delicately. He just noticed. Looked at the cuff.

"Funny, that looks like what my Mom used to wear back in what Dad called 'the good old days,'" Dean chuckled, looking at how faded the leather was. "I think hers was darker." But there are creases on it. It's well worn. He stares. The pattern, stars. He'd worn it for a time. When he was sixteen. Something of his mother's to hold onto. And no one looked too closely at it, they just figured it was like a sweatband or something.

"It is your mother's, Dean." He blinked, looking closer at her face. Then it hit him. Sixteen. He'd been here.

"Oh my god," he whispered, a slow smile spreading across his face. She giggled, turning a little pink.

"I was so scared I was wrong, you're so much older!"

"So're you!" he shot back, feeling almost offended. He was only in his early twenties. "Last time I saw you, you were what, five? Six? Maybe."

"I got lost in the market. Started crying. You picked me up and said you'd help me find my parents. I played with the cuff on your wrist, because it reminded me of Roman Soldiers in the picture books." Dean grinned at her words. She'd told him all about it as they searched, reminding him of Sammy at that age. She still reminded him of Sammy. Bright inquisitive. Alive. Not like him. He hadn't been truly alive since his mom was murdered. She slipped the cuff off, smiling. "You gave this to me, telling me to be brave like the soldiers until we found my parents. We found them at the other end, they didn't even notice I was gone, because my little sister was being such a brat. And I was always following them quietly. I was the good one," she giggled again. Dean smiled at her, taking the cuff. "I always promised I'd find you and give it back when I didn't need it to be brave anymore, remember?" She had something different to hold onto. The memory of a sixteen year old boy who was willing to look past himself and be a human being.

"It's okay," he smiled, holding it out towards her.

"No, I really want you to have it," she smiled, her dimples showing. "I don't have a lot of time." He glanced around for her parents. "I've just been waiting here for you for a long time." Something felt wrong to him. He reached out to touch her, and she was gone, his hand still holding the band of leather. "I just want you to remember she's always with you," the girl's voice whispered, her breath warm as it faded. Dean stood there, alone again. The market was empty, he realized. Closed. Probably had been for a while. He could have sworn it was bustling and busy. Unclipping the snap on the leather, he slipped it around his wrist, surprised it would still fit. Then again, it had been big on her, he could tell.

"I will. Always."


End file.
